


.2 kg

by kronotriga



Series: build me up [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Asexuality Spectrum, Bathtub Sex, Body Worship, Character Study, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Olympics, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rule 63, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronotriga/pseuds/kronotriga
Summary: Kiyoomi watches Atsumu pant as he sits between her legs, eyes tracing her with such a heaviness she can almost feel their weight. She’s struck with the urge to press her fingers into his open mouth again, to caress his pink tongue, twitching fingers on her sheets the sole giveaway as she restrains herself. But Atsumu’s gaze doesn’t waver from where she throbs, still aroused but not yet satisfied.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: build me up [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121096
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	.2 kg

**Author's Note:**

> part 2 of my build me up series and sequel to the pegging fic, inspired by this [drawing](https://twitter.com/popplioikawa/status/1345603430727860224) by phee! the first half is mostly character study/introspection from kiyoomi’s pov about the same events before we pick up where the first part left off
> 
> I totally made an error in my math in part 1: atsumu has actually had a crush on kiyoomi for 6-7 years if they’re around 23-24 in 2019, mine is the one that is going on 9 years irl :^)
> 
> recommended [listening](https://youtu.be/tGRzz0oqgUE)

Kiyoomi’s first impression of Miya Atsumu from the V league division 1 games she’s watched is that he is talented, sharing a passionate drive for their sport that rivals her own and exhibiting a dedication to his hitters that she’s never seen from a setter before. So when she sees that distinct platinum blond hair at the gala dinner she decides to speak with him and maybe learn more about his serve routine.

She follows him to a table where he plucks up a flute of champagne and can’t stop herself from commenting, “Miya. I hope you’re not going to get wasted.”

Kiyoomi knows that Miya’s eyes are brown, as stated on both his Black Jackals and National Team profile, but in the light of the event hall they look like liquid amber as he stares up at her in apparent surprise. Maybe that was a bit harsh from a stranger.

“Sakusa-senshu,” he drawls around a toothy grin, making Kiyoomi grit her own teeth in annoyance. “I didn’t take you to be the type to care so much about my well-being.”

Her second impression is that Miya is a condescending asshole. But during their dinner following their first service ace competition he earns the benefit of the doubt that she might have been wrong about him after all.

And he rises to her challenge as if she is a worthy opponent, even over something so trivial. Kiyoomi has never had someone match her in intensity or dedication before but as they settle into a new comfortable routine of theirs, Miya’s company and comebacks become welcome too.

* * *

Kiyoomi knows that she is objectively very lucky. There are drawbacks, of course: the price of her flexible body is the need to be cautious and take proper care of it, the allowance of her bluntness and ability to speak her mind paid in difficulty forming social relationships. 

Kiyoomi is also greedy. She accepts this about herself, would never attempt to downplay or deny it. Anyone who makes the national team and plays on the world stage must be greedy enough to some degree to want to win, to be the best. Kiyoomi is also greedy enough to wish to be able to walk away one day, completely satisfied with her personal accomplishments. 

But outside of volleyball she has always thought of her greed as tame. Kiyoomi has never wanted for anything in her life, comfortably supported by her parents through college even with her sports scholarship, and her professional career has also been smooth. All of her physical needs are met, her body healthy and even extraordinary with her height and flexibility that allow her to excel at volleyball. 

Kiyoomi has never been truly greedy for anything off the court until she meets Miya, who gives even more than she demands.

* * *

Miya always watches her with keen eyes. At first she had thought that he was simply assessing her volleyball form but she comes to realize that he studies her like _he_ doesn’t want to make mistakes, bad plays. Kiyoomi isn’t quite sure what to make of it because she’s never had someone care so much before. Motoya already knows most of her boundaries and Kiyoomi has no compunctions about reminding him either. She wasn’t prepared for Miya— for Atsumu to learn them so quickly when other family and teammates still haven’t. 

And why?

Kiyoomi knows that Atsumu respects her as a fellow athlete, they wouldn’t practice together every day otherwise, competition notwithstanding. But sometimes she catches his eyes lingering when they’re not playing or practicing volleyball. He’ll watch her hands for seemingly no reason other than to observe what she does and does not touch, so Kiyoomi makes a point to take her time when she does touch to wordlessly confirm, _Yes, this is fine_.

She never has to tell him not to touch her. 

* * *

As a rule, Kiyoomi doesn’t touch if she doesn’t have to. The world constantly demands contact but she rejects the implicit rule, hating being forced to submit to arbitrary societal demands that encroach on her bodily autonomy. 

But she can control her own health, within reason, and what _she_ chooses to touch. Kiyoomi had slipped up once when she had thought that Atsumu had a fever, worry overtaking her caution, but he never mentions it again or presses for more contact. 

In fact, Atsumu is so careful about not touching her that Kiyoomi finds herself craving to touch _him_. He’s so comfortable on the court, with his teammates, engaging in such casual skinship that she’s never even had with Motoya. She doesn’t suddenly want to high five her own teammates all the time or receive a hug without warning but Kiyoomi finds herself wondering what it would be like to have all of Atsumu’s devoted attention directly solely at her, and also what it would be like to feel that warmth.

She has never _wanted_ to touch, before Atsumu. She may not be particularly close to her teammates, either back in Osaka or here in Tokyo, but they share a mutual professional respect and trust that does not require deeper friendship off the court. But Atsumu is her friend now, the first real one of her adult life, and she’s fairly certain friends don’t ask to touch each other just to feel the comfort and slide of another person’s skin against their own.

* * *

It takes months into their friendship and routine for Kiyoomi to reveal to Atsumu during their serve receive practice one night that she doesn’t experience sexual attraction like most people. It’s a blunt truth, and maybe also a question to see how Atsumu will respond. 

He thanks her for trusting him and shares that he’s bisexual, that he’s dated a man and a woman before. He doesn’t go into the details of why neither relationship worked out but Kiyoomi pieces together that it’s been years since he’s dated, which strikes her as odd that someone as popular and charismatic as Atsumu has been single for so long. 

From an objective standpoint, surely there is no lack of potential partners lining up to date Atsumu and she’s even heard of the dedicated Black Jackals fans who always show up at fan events to pose with him in photos. To say she doesn’t understand would be an understatement, even though she’s always chosen to be single.

As they continue practicing Kiyoomi thinks about how volleyball satisfies her personally in ways she’s certain that a partner never would, not that she has time for one anyway. People don’t ask her out and she doesn’t want them to, preferring the court and her own company. She has her own hands and toys to satisfy her libido and has never needed or wanted more. 

Besides, a potential partner would have to be someone who respected her and who she likewise trusted completely, ideally someone who was also a professional player so they would have similar schedules, because otherwise how would it work— 

_Oh_.

* * *

During dinner that night Kiyoomi indulges in a rare glass of umeshu, the sweet and tart plum syrupy on her tongue. She doesn’t think about licking the edge of her glass to catch the last of the flavor and when she lowers it Atsumu’s eyes remain fixed on her mouth. 

She’s never felt uncomfortable with Atsumu before and she doesn’t now, exactly, but she’s suddenly very aware of the weight of his gaze and what it means. People aren’t attracted to Kiyoomi, not to this intensity in person at least, and she’s never been subject to such a hungry look that it makes her flush in embarrassment. 

So _this_ is what it is like to have all of that searing attention focused on her.

“Miya,” she breaks the charged moment and Atsumu’s expression looks guilty for a second before he smoothly picks up on the last thread of their conversation and the rest of the dinner goes without incident. 

Kiyoomi orders a second glass.

* * *

Atsumu will not touch her so Kiyoomi swallows her pride to ask. The following evening Kiyoomi speaks up after their post practice showers before heading to dinner.

“Would you help me trim my nails first? I never quite get the nails of my right hand short enough without snipping skin.”

Atsumu looks surprised but easily acquiesces, “Sure.”

She motions for him to follow her back into the locker room and Atsumu freezes at the doorway.

“Miya, we’re the only people here, everyone else left hours ago.”

“Right.” 

Kiyoomi pulls her nail care set from her locker and Atsumu settles next to her on the bench, taking up the clippers to inspect and familiarize himself. She trusts these hands, knows that they are clean and stable, but she needs to know what they feel like before making any kind of decision. 

The greed she was only vaguely aware of in the back of her mind for months burns in Kiyoomi’s veins now that she’s close enough to really study Atsumu in a way she hadn’t before. 

She understands the fans and the popularity polls in theory, because of course Atsumu is conventionally physically attractive. But none of that compares to the affection she holds for the person before her, with damp hair and dressed in soft-looking rumpled sweats. Atsumu is her best friend and Kiyoomi loves him most like this, relaxed and stripped of his larger than life presence before cameras and the world. 

She thinks she still wants the casual touches he blesses others with but maybe she could have more, too, if he wants the same.

Atsumu looks up and smiles, holding out a hand that Kiyoomi does not hesitate to slide her own into. Neither of their hands are soft, covered in calluses from years of volleyball, but Atsumu’s heat radiates from her palm to her fingertips. Kiyoomi doesn’t move as her skin tingles from Atsumu’s gentle touch, holds her breath to not let out the shuddering sigh that threatens to escape, and basks in his tender warmth washing over her.

* * *

Kiyoomi thinks about it. About a future in Osaka with Atsumu, if he’s interested the same way she now knows she is. She understands that just because he’s shown a few signs of attraction doesn’t mean he necessarily wants a relationship beyond the friendship they already have. There’s so much to potentially lose, while simultaneously also so much to gain.

But Kiyoomi doesn’t like dwelling on hypotheticals so she focuses more on practicals, if sex might be on the table: what she wants, what her boundaries are. Atsumu wouldn’t hurt or judge her, and she thinks he would allow her complete control during sex if that’s what she wanted.

She spends the next few weeks researching and practicing. Kiyoomi has never gone into anything without being prepared to learn and become the best she can be out of personal satisfaction, so she diligently rolls condoms on a variety of different dildos until she feels proficient and looks up how to locate the prostate. If they end up doing this she wants to be the best Atsumu has ever had, and this is one competition Kiyoomi is certain she can win.

* * *

After all her preparation and emotional turmoil, the very day Kiyoomi decides to ask Atsumu out he doesn’t show up to breakfast. A frantic text relay with Motoya confirms he’s in the gym and looking a bit under the weather, so she snatches a protein bar from her bag to give him and loses her temper over his irresponsibility about his health but he remains suspiciously quiet.

He shows up as promised at lunch and Kiyoomi develops a pretty clear idea as to the cause of his avoidance from his awkwardness and embarrassment. She may as well move up plans.

After Atsumu’s left Kiyoomi makes a call home and confirms her parents are traveling this weekend. Neither of them are the best at verbal expressions of affection but her heart warms when her mother tells her she’s laid out fresh sheets on Kiyoomi’s bed if she wants a break from the dorms. 

She does not need to know what might happen on said sheets.

* * *

Kiyoomi insists on paying for dinner, both because she wants to make sure Atsumu eats properly and also because she feels responsible for neither of them keeping track of service aces in official practice that day.

“You can pay next time, we pretty much just trade off every day anyway.”

Atsumu’s eyes are warm and crinkle like they do when he’s genuinely happy. 

“It’s a date.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t deny it and thinks the wait was worth it to be sure.

* * *

The warmth of Atsumu’s hands in hers and his palpable joy make Kiyoomi feel white hot with anticipation.

As she pulls him into her bedroom she’s amused by the high blush on his cheeks when she says he can use her shower supplies in the bathroom. When the door shuts, Kiyoomi tries to steady her heart rate and makes sure she packed everything she needs from her dorm in her sports bag. 

* * *

She had thought that nothing could beat the headiness of having all 80 plus kilograms of proud, strong Miya Atsumu falling apart under her but having all of his attention and devotion turned towards eating her out might be even better.

Kiyoomi watches Atsumu pant as he sits between her legs, eyes tracing her with such a heaviness she can almost feel their weight. She’s struck with the urge to press her fingers into his open mouth again, to caress his pink tongue, twitching fingers on her sheets the sole giveaway as she restrains herself. But Atsumu’s gaze doesn’t waver from where she throbs, still aroused but not yet satisfied. 

“If you’re OK with waitin’ a little longer could I work you up again?”

 _God, yes_. “Get over here,” she demands as she collapses back onto her bed. Atsumu scrambles to the bathroom to quickly remove the condom and wipe off then he returns, movements still languid from his orgasm.

Kiyoomi holds out her arms to him and he topples into them so they can kiss. She strokes his cheeks as she runs her tongue against the roof of his mouth, drinking in every moan. 

“Can I touch you over the shirt?” he whispers when they finally break apart for air and Kiyoomi nods, chest heaving into Atsumu’s tentative hands until he’s cupping both breasts gently, and she thinks they fit perfectly in his palms. 

Talking is difficult around the drag of the dri-fit over her sensitive skin but she makes out, “We can take it off.”

Atsumu’s hair tickles her chin as he lowers his mouth to lave his tongue over her neck and she pushes more into his hands and mouth. If he doesn’t mind the sweat she wouldn’t be opposed to being licked all over. 

“Jus’ a minute,” he says, then moves his hands to her hips and the wet warmth of his lips leaves her neck to wrap around a nipple through the thin material of the dri-fit. Kiyoomi shoves her fingers into his hair and arches upwards with a quavery sound in her throat. Is light bursting out of her pores from how she feels like she’s glowing?

Atsumu licks and sucks until the shirt sticks to her skin with saliva before switching to the other, all the while letting out small hums each time Kiyoomi’s short nails scratch over his scalp. He finally releases the second nipple with a pop and a grin.

“Ready now!”

He leans back so she can whip the shirt over her head and it also gets tossed over the bed as Atsumu returns, burying his face in her chest. Kiyoomi can feel her heart racing with pleasure and impatience but she holds him gently against her and lets him take his time as he acquaints his mouth with bare nipples. Atsumu even ducks to press wet kisses to the undersides of her breasts, surprising a ticklish laugh out of Kiyoomi.

She wonders if Atsumu knows that his touches tonight alone are making up for a lifetime of touch starvation.

When her chest is sufficiently worshipped he trails calloused fingers over the stretch marks on her sides and hips, soothing a bone deep ache Kiyoomi was never even aware she’d had, and mouths over them on his way down her body. She notices him deviating to random spots across her torso to press kisses and a bright grin greets her when she glances down at him to see what he’s doing. 

“Gotta show your moles some love too,” he says with a wink. Kiyoomi flushes and throws her head back. What a sap, but she loves him anyway.

As he shifts further down the bed on his stomach Atsumu pauses on his journey to suck at the creases of both thighs and she strains against his strong hands holding her waist to the bed, pinning her legs down with his body weight. 

“I want— ‘Tsumu, _I want_.” Words beyond her, Kiyoomi’s blood sings with the reverence and love Atsumu pours into every touch. What on earth did she do to deserve this?

He presses a kiss with tongue to her navel as she trembles. “ _God_ , you’re gorgeous.”

Atsumu’s breath is hot even through her pubic hair when he slides his hands under her to part her labia with his thumbs. His eyes remain locked with hers as he reaches out with the tip of his tongue to swipe a slow lick over her clit and the drag of wet muscle is so electrifying that Kiyoomi’s shocked inhale gravels out into a moan deep in her throat, fingers digging down into her sheets as she struggles to keep holding herself up to watch.

Movement flutters in the corner of her hazy vision as Atsumu removes one burning hand to clasp one of her clenched ones, pulling it over his head. Kiyoomi knows what he wants, wants it too, but the greed is so strong she’s afraid she’ll lose herself if she gives in. She would use him, _take_ , even though he willingly offers and she had stoked the initial fires of competition.

Or maybe he demands, too, because his hand does not abandon its strong grip on her wrist and when he opens his mouth to suck on her clit Kiyoomi gives into their shared hunger. With a jerk of her hips and a desperate groan she sinks her fingers into Atsumu’s hair and _pulls_. 

The strength of it makes Atsumu face plant into Kiyoomi’s groin and she’s about to apologize but he just angles his chin down and licks into her, causing all words to fly out of her brain, and he brings his hand back to hold her open again. 

He eats her out like she’s his favorite meal that he could never get enough of, alternating between an unpredictable rhythm of long sweeps inside and short sucks around the entrance. He eats her out as if there were nothing else he would rather do for hours and _god, maybe this is what he’d dreamt of._

Kiyoomi holds on for dear life, threading her other hand into his hair too for good measure. 

Her abs tremble with the effort of curling up around Atsumu’s head so she doesn’t pull too hard again and he blindly grabs for her hips. She thinks he’s trying to help steady her but he scoops up her pelvis like Kiyoomi had done to him and as he rises on his knees she lands back onto her shoulders with a huff.

She mourns the loss of her grip on his hair while Atsumu takes the brief reprieve to gulp for air, then he dives back in to engulf as much of her mound as he can fit in his mouth and sucks. _Hard_.

Say, for instance, a meteorite were to fall from the sky right now, Kiyoomi would neither know nor care. Time and space have lost all meaning; all that exists is right now and the singular sensation of Miya Atsumu’s heavenly mouth eating her out as her brain melts out of her ears in time with the pulse of her blood.

Kiyoomi crashes back down to Earth to find her mouth dry from continuously chanting, “ _'Tsumu, 'Tsumu, yes, please!_ ” She musters enough strength to wrap her legs around Atsumu’s neck in a chokehold instead of dangling but he doesn’t let up from thrusting his tongue into her, the sound obscene and his nose bumping her clit with every movement.

Kiyoomi feels as if her entire body is rippling, hot and about to blow, her voice a feral animal sound in her chest. Atsumu sucks sharply on her clit and she cries out, bucking wildly into his mouth as she tips over the edge. He is unrelenting even as she shakes weakly through the aftershocks until she nudges the back of his head with a knee and he pulls off to lap gently at the outside of her entrance instead.

“‘Tsumu,” Kiyoomi whimpers, and Atsumu immediately lowers her back to the bed. She frowns when he doesn’t follow, staying seated too far away, but her muscles aren’t cooperating at the moment. 

He wipes the back of a hand over his mouth and the heat in her abdomen flares again. 

“Wanna kiss.” Her words sound petulant even to her, but honest and blunt as ever.

“D’you want me to go brush my teeth first?” 

Kiyoomi hadn’t even thought of it, though Atsumu already has a new toothbrush in the bathroom from earlier.

Her come still glistens on his lower face where he didn’t quite manage to wipe it all off and he’s already slinging a leg over the side of the bed when Kiyoomi forces her rubber limbs to move and pull him back down onto her instead.

“Oof, wh—” Kiyoomi cuts him off with a kiss, licking into his mouth to taste. She could _definitely_ get used to this as one kiss stretches, and stretches.

Atsumu’s pupils are dilated in hooded eyes when they part. Kiyoomi wonders if he could go again when his eyes suddenly focus somewhere beyond her wild mess of hair.

“Oh, there’s my phone!”

Kiyoomi snorts and suggests they go shower again. Her greed is satisfied for now and there will be time for more later, as much and as many times as they want.

* * *

They both squeeze into the bathroom and Atsumu brushes his teeth at the sink while Kiyoomi starts the shower, waiting until he’s done to open the partition and pull him under the spray to join her. They take turns soaping each other up, exchanging sensual touches that make them both giggle without getting too riled up, and Kiyoomi agrees when Atsumu asks to shampoo her hair. 

Despite the steam partly obscuring the vertical mirror on the wall under the showerhead, Kiyoomi is still entranced by what she can make out of Atsumu’s joyous face over her shoulder as he runs his fingers through her hair while tenderly lathering her scalp.

“I’ve always liked your curls,” he admits, and Kiyoomi thinks back on all the times she’d noticed him staring at them. But she’s not going to let him one-up her.

“You can touch now,” Kiyoomi says and Atsumu stills in surprise. “Whenever you want, just let me know.” She still has years of missed hair touches to make up for, too.

“I— OK,” is the shaky response and she catches his blush in the mirror.

When they’re sufficiently rinsed off Kiyoomi checks the temperature of the bath water she had started a few minutes previously and slides in with a sigh, feeling Atsumu’s eyes on her. 

“Come join me.”

Atsumu eyes the tub with a dubious expression. “D’you really think we’ll both fit?”

She rolls her eyes but her feigned annoyance is ruined by her smile. “If you sit with your back to me we should have enough leg room.”

It takes some shuffling and spilling of bath water to fit both their limbs but eventually Atsumu is nestled between Kiyoomi’s legs, one of his own dangling over the side, though he holds himself up from reclining back against her.

“We’re practically the same weight, Atsumu,” she grumbles and nuzzles into his neck, loving the heat rising off his skin, and presses an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder.

“Still, just let me know—”

She grazes her teeth over him and relishes in his shiver. Who knew Atsumu would be so concerned about their negligible weight difference? They’re both professional athletes, for crying out loud, she can certainly handle it. 

“Stop worrying, I just want to hold you.”

Atsumu finally fully relaxes, his entire weight coming back to rest against her without his core holding him up, and Kiyoomi smirks in satisfaction at getting her way.

They rest in easy silence for a few minutes as Kiyoomi indulges in mindlessly running her hands over his chest and stomach until a thought comes to her. 

“‘Tsumu, can I touch you?”

“Mmm, y’ are?” He sounds so sated and content, as if he could doze off right here in the bath, that maybe she could wait until another time but it doesn’t hurt to ask. 

Knowing it will scandalize him, Kiyoomi lifts a hand in front of Atsumu’s face and makes a jerking-off motion.

“Omi!” he predictably yelps but she can feel his heart rate jump under the hand on his chest and she doesn’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“If you’re up for teaching me how to touch you now I want to try.” She hooks her chin over his shoulder to get a better look at his body, eyeing his burgeoning erection, and doesn’t resist pressing a kiss to his neck over one of the hickies she’d left earlier. A selfish part of her is glad they probably won’t completely fade by training on Monday; even though she knows Motoya will tease them both, Atsumu will be far more embarrassed and ruthlessly made fun of by his team. 

And there’s still all weekend to leave new ones. 

“Practice makes perfect, right?”

“You really _are_ killin’ me,” Atsumu mutters and she knows she’s won when he curls his own hand around hers, palm wider where her fingers are longer, but he still hesitates. “Sure you wanna do this here?”

“I just thought it might be nice in water, unless my pruney fingers won’t feel good.”

“No! It’s just— You don’t need to wear gloves? Or have me wear a condom?”

Oh, she wasn’t clear. “‘Tsumu, I _want_ to touch you. I just wanted to minimize the potential mess in my bed.”

A relieved sound escapes him and Kiyoomi resolves to do better at both telling him and showing him appreciation. He’s always so careful about her boundaries she hasn’t really thought to consider what _he_ wants before.

“Please show me,” she kisses the edge of his mouth and Atsumu’s laugh echoes in the bathroom.

“My pleasure,” he drawls, and threads their fingers together.

Atsumu brings their hands to his cock, simply pressing Kiyoomi’s palm against it for a few seconds and they watch it jump and swell a little more.

“Is that really all it takes?” Kiyoomi jokes and Atsumu laughs with her.

“A gorgeous woman just asked to give me a hand job in the bath after sex, ‘course it doesn’t take much!”

But he guides her hand to the head and she strokes the underside with curious fingers, which makes him shiver.

“There’s a— _ah!_ ” he breaks off as Kiyoomi presses her thumb firmly to his frenulum and grips tighter with her other fingers around his length. 

“D’you even need me to show you?” his voice cracks incredulously on a wet stroke.

Kiyoomi hums, pleased all her research has indeed paid off. “I still wanna know what _you_ like.”

“Well, you’re doin’ a great job finding out for yourself,” Atsumu chuckles and lets go to grip her thighs with both his hands instead. “Please carry on!”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Atsumu’s fingers dig into her muscle almost painfully when Kiyoomi gently grabs his balls with her free hand and he jerks when she tightens her fingers around his cock’s sensitive head on the next stroke. His head collapses back onto her shoulder with a gasp.

“What the hell didja watch?”

Kiyoomi licks up his neck, tasting his sweat, and rolls his balls in time with a faster stroke. “Just did some homework,” she answers smugly. She refuses to be embarrassed of her internet search history, especially while staying in the dorms. “I wanted to be better than your other lovers.”

Atsumu’s resulting laugh is satisfyingly gravelly. “Babe, you’re the only one.”

A slower, tighter stroke turns his laugh into a wheeze.

“I know that _now_.”

He turns his head to nose into her jaw with a breathy, “ _Kiyoomi_ ,” making her throb and clench around nothing at all. Completely unfair.

She figures he’s far enough along that one hand will do and releases his balls to tilt his chin up into a greedy kiss. 

Atsumu starts humping into Kiyoomi’s hand with every stroke as she speeds up while distracted and she forces herself to slow down and draw it out longer, wrapping an arm around his tense abs to hold him still against her body.

He whines and thrashes a little against her hold but hums in pleasure when Kiyoomi focuses on the glans again in circular motions, and it only takes another minute for him to come with a deep sigh and full body shiver.

“Tha’ was great, Omi,” he murmurs when he’s caught his breath. She doesn’t need to see it to clearly imagine Atsumu’s blissed out expression.

Kiyoomi kisses behind his ear and thinks about how they can have all of this: the banter, the competition, the affection, the touching, the sex, every single day if they want. And she does want it, for as long as Atsumu does too.

* * *

After she has let the tub drain and helped him up, Atsumu is still so boneless that Kiyoomi convinces him to let her hold up most of his weight as they quickly rinse again while exchanging lazy kisses. Then she towels him off and forces him to sit on the edge of her bed so she can dry his hair, uncaring of their nudity. 

She enjoys Atsumu’s thumbs stroking over her hip bones as he tilts his smiling face up at her and she pecks a kiss on his nose.

“What was that for?”

“I just love you,” Kiyoomi admits and watches the expected red bloom across Atsumu’s face. 

“Y— you really do,” he breathes, awestruck.

Kiyoomi isn’t above flicking him on the forehead. “I said so, didn’t I? I wouldn’t have gone through all this effort or have even considered having sex if I didn’t love you.”

“Hey, you said you _liked_ me,” Atsumu splutters. Ah, maybe he was right.

“Well,” Kiyoomi tries to tamp down on her sudden insecurity, “I _do_ love—”

“I’ve had a crush on you since high school,” Atsumu interrupts, leaving her open-mouthed at the confession. “I used to collect every article, I mean, I guess I still do, especially since you went pro and then were selected for the national team—”

“Atsumu—”

“And then when we finally met in person I was sure you hated me but you wanted to keep up the service ace competition and then we became friends but I was afraid of making you uncomfortable while falling in love for real this time—”

“You—”

“Kiyoomi, I love you!” 

She laughs into the ringing silence and leans down to kiss Atsumu until they’re both breathing hard into each other’s mouths and Kiyoomi swears she glows.

Minutes or hours later when they’ve calmed down and settled into bed, Kiyoomi’s leg draped over Atsumu’s hip, arms wrapped around his middle, and face shoved into his neck, she asks, “How would you feel about moving in together?”

**Author's Note:**

> I looked up the dimensions of the [shower/tub](https://www.yamasa.org/im/reshane_a_bath02_b.jpg) and the [bathroom layout](https://www.yamasa.org/im/reshane_a_toilet02_b.jpg) in my old apartment when I was attending language school in Japan in 2014-2015 bc I specifically remembered the apartment’s accommodations were geared towards tall foreigners (and 6 ft tall Japanese athletes also fit the bill)
> 
> the vague timeline here isn’t really affected by the apparent news of the cancellation of the tokyo olympics since the plot takes place in 2019 but future installments in this series will take that into account
> 
> I plan to return to add a part 3 but for now I want to focus on developing my lesbian skts series, hope you enjoy!
> 
> you may perceive me on my [side twit](https://twitter.com/kronopriv)


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